


On These Days

by TriscuitsandSoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/pseuds/TriscuitsandSoup
Summary: When Chris is sick he gets stubborn and when Chris is stubborn Stiles is persistent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just some stargent sick fic, because I like sick fic.

A soft hand pressed against Chris’s warm forehead. He tried to shake it away but all that did was cause it to slide up and wipe some of the newly formed sweat from his brow. 

“You’re sick,” said Stiles. When his hand finally pulled away Chris almost regretted the loss of warmth. Despite the heavy blankets piled on top of him he couldn’t get even an ounce of heat into his bones.

He opened his weary eyes and blinked through the haze that clouded them. “You think?” he croaked out with a voice of glass and sandpaper.

Stiles sat cross-legged beside him wearing only a pair of sweatpants that at one time belonged to Chris. “I’ll get the cough syrup,” he said with a grimace.

“No,” said Chris. He slowly dragged himself up and shivered as the cold air of the bedroom touched his naked back. “It’s good for my immune system. I can fight through it.”

“You’re immune-? Chris! You’re already sick. Your immune system failed. I’m getting the cough medicine.” Stiles shook his head and slid off the bed.

“No. I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I won’t take it.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and disappeared into the master bathroom.

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around himself tight but they did little to warm him. He didn’t even bother searching through his clothes for something appropriate to wear down to the station. Normally he would have gone for a more sophisticated look but with the way he was feeling a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants would have to do. Besides, his father-in-law was the Sheriff and no one ever complained when Stiles did it.

Just as he finished dressing a narrow finger tapped on his shoulder.

Chris turned around to see Stiles standing before him with a mischievous look in his eyes and his arms behind his back. He’d thrown on a red sweatshirt that had something small bulging in the front pocket.

“What?” Chris asked, raising his brow slightly.

Stiles leaned up and lightly touched their lips together. His chest, warm and soft pressed into Chris’s own and he couldn’t help but wrap to wrap his arms around the boy.

“You’re going to get sick,” he muttered.

Stiles merely shrugged and continued to press against him.

As Stiles parted his lips a rush of bitter liquid with the consistency of syrup rushed into his mouth and forced its way down his throat.

He jerked back coughing and sputtering but he’d already swallowed a regrettable amount.

“Stiles!” he snapped.

“A spoonful of Stiles makes the medicine go down,” Stiles said with a wicked grin.

“Get me some damn water,” Chris demanded. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pulled away to see a small trace of the sticky red medicine left behind.

When he looked up Stiles was already drinking from a clear glass. When he finished he handed it over readily.

“That stuff tastes like shit,” he said. “Years of medical advancement and they still can’t make cough medicine taste good?”

The water felt good on Chris’s throat as he downed it. His body was cold but his throat was burning and the relief felt nice for the few moments he drank.

“You see now why I didn’t want to take it?” he asked handing back the glass.

“I thought you wanted your immune system to fight it off for you?”

Chris shrugged and walked briskly to the door where his boots were waiting, propped against the far wall next to Stiles’s red sneakers.

“I seriously think you shouldn’t go to work today,” said Stiles, following on his heels. “You’re pale, you’re burning up, you sound like you swallowed a razor. The list goes on.”

Chris sighed and put on his shoes. “I’ve worked through worse than this.”

“I know,” said Stiles. “Trust me, I know. That’s how you always get sick. You’re going to work yourself into an early grave.”

“I’m going to start the car now. Get dressed.”

“Fine,” said Stiles as he retreated lethargically to the wardrobe.

The air outside the house was brisk and made Chris sink further into his sweatshirt. He hopped in the Tahoe and turned the key but nothing happened. He furrowed his brow and tried again but not even a sputter came from the old vehicle. He remembered the shape in Stiles’ hood pocket.

He pulled out the key and walked back inside.

Stiles was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop propped open.

“Stiles?” he asked quietly.

Stiles looked up from his computer screen. He licked over his lips as he always did when he was nervous. “Yeah huh?”

“Do you know why my car won’t start?” Chris folded his arms and leaned against the entryway.

“Sounds like something you should see a mechanic about,” said Stiles. “Take it as a sign and just go back to sleep. You can miss one day of work.”

“If I check your hood pocket am I going to find any fuses?”

Stiles tried and failed to repress a smirk. “No.”

“What if I check in the bedroom?”

“Gonna be searching all day old man.”

Chris sighed. “Please, Stiles. I have a million projects I need to finish.”

“Then finish them this weekend because your sick ass is staying home.”

“What if I call an uber?”

“I’ll call my dad and report a kidnapping.”

“You are insufferable,” said Chris. “You know that?”

“It’s come up a few times but you knew that already. Go back to bed. I’ll bring you tea.” After a few more clicks on the keyboard Stiles closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair. “It’s just one day.”

“I haven’t missed a single day of work in six years. They need me there.”

“Before you transferred to Beacon Hills the department did just fine without you,” Stiles said. “My dad knows how run things. How about a compromise? You stay home from work and in return I’ll also stay home from work. We can spend the whole day cuddled up in bed together.”

The idea was tempting. Between his helping out at the Sheriff’s station and Stiles school and workload they rarely got more than a few hours together. ‘Date nights’ had turned into ‘lunch breaks’ and going out was almost unheard of.

“You just don’t want to go to work,” Chris said. Tempted as he was he doubted Stiles’ motives were purely for the sake of their relationship.

“That’s correct,” Stiles admitted, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t not want to stay home and take care of you.”

Chris opened his mouth to protest. He wanted to say no, that he and Stiles were both fully capable of performing their duties. He wanted to fix his car, go to the office, and finish his day like normal.

His body wanted to pass out on the floor then and there and sleep for the rest of eternity and that was the more pressing desire at the moment.

“Okay,” he agreed.

“Yes!” said Stiles, jumping up from his seat. “I knew you could be reasoned with!”

Chris winced. “Stiles. Volume, please.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said a little bit quieter.

They retreated back into their bedroom where Stiles reformed their pile of blankets as he always did.

As he put his shoes back against the wall he noticed that Stiles was still wearing the same sweatpants as when they’d awoken.

“You didn’t even get dressed,” he grumbled.

Stiles scratched the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “I’m an optimist?”

“No,” said Chris. “You’re an opportunist.” He wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist and dragged him to the bed like an overgrown teddy bear. He threw back the blankets and climbed onto the bed, dragging Stiles down with him.

Stiles pulled the blankets over while Chris hit the light switch and the two entwined together again.

Chris took a deep breath and melted into the mattress and into the soft embrace of his love. Perhaps staying home from work wasn’t so bad after all. 


End file.
